(The sun the shadows the wind almost a storm. Icy fingers, moving fast, wheels on dry concrete. A silent river. A few dots of people and dogs in autumnal meadows. Here in a moment, and still always a bit elsewhere, never short of worries even in these bright clear hours.)

#outerworld #concrete city #escapism #sunday afternoon #stories of seasons changing and the different colours of light

Marga Xeyat Ⓐ hat dies geteilt.